departure. Peter tried to cover his slip and induce his master to mount and ride off; but it was too late.
"Here, Peter, just hold her a minute longer. I think that note is for me."
Patrick with some difficulty squeezed himself through the hole—it had been made originally by Mr. Harry so that he might run over and call on Miss Ethel without having to go around; and Mr. Harry was thin. Patrick emerged with hair awry and puffing. He stood anxiously mopping his brow while Mr. Carter read the note. Peter likewise eyed his master with a touch of anxiety; he had a foreboding that the contents of the letter meant no good to the cause of the new mustang.
Mr. Carter ran his eye down the page with a quickly gathering frown and then faced the man.
"You saw my son shoot the guinea fowl?"
"No, sir—that is, sir, I ain't sure. Mr. Jasper he asked me who I thought the boys
